Legend of the Cryptids: Blight
by stormwind17
Summary: This story is a fan fiction inspired from the application game Legend of the Cryptids. I by no means own the game, or it's initial world. Some characters are of my own creation, however, some mentioned are not and are assumed their own backgrounds and personalities. All credit is due to the original creator of Neotellus. Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own the world of Neotellus, this story only depicts the views of three main characters, Adrian, Bloodmoon and Shayha. Most characters are not my own, but some are of my own creation. Full credit is given to the original artists and creator of Neotellus and all of its original contents. All chapters are in 3rd person limited. There are mentions of homosexuality, sex, drugs, strong language, alcohol and gore. Read upon your own risk. Thank you.**

 **Chapter one is from the view of Bloodmoon.**

Chapter One:

It started with thundering. Leaves rumbled on nearby branches, shaking as birds threw themselves into the autumn air, screeching and squealing in surprise. The thundering came from an oak, its body quivering against the cooling air of the waning day. Bark had fallen, its bare base a gleaming, haunting white against the flourishing forest around it. Years had passed and the oak had grown weak, its roots having withered and the branches curling downward. It was evident that one day the oak would fall to the forest floor to decay and become one with the earth even further. The evening it happened the ground shook, the forest moaning in sadness as another of its beautiful beings had fallen. It did not go unnoticed by the forests other inhabitants, for the village people too awaited the sorrowful day. A man and his daughter crouched around the tree, their eyes searching over the mighty trunk with both awe and melancholy. "Father," the daughter began, her black hair braided against her left shoulder, "Why did this happen?"

The man looked to his daughter, who was no more than four years of age. Her eyes glistened red, full of wonder and question, an innocence he longed to have in his own. He motioned her closer, resting on one knee and having her sit on the other. Strong arms wrapped around the small child and the man sighed, his short bearded chin scratching the top of her forehead. "Well, you see…" he began, his voice gruff, "This oak has lived for so, so long, sweet nose."

One of his gloved hands lifted and he held her cheek in his hand. The girl smiled sweetly, yet the sorrow in her eyes was unmistakable, she too could feel the aura of the forest pull on the strings of her emotions. The forest shared its sorrow with her, and she had let it in. But she was too young to understand and the curiosity in her eyes had peaked. The man cleared his throat, and behind green eyes she could see his own soft pain. "But it was time for the oak to become one with the forest."

The girl tilted her head, "But why? Wasn't it already part of the forest?"

He nodded, "Yes, in a way. But now, you see, it hugs the forest floor," his arm squeezed her softly and she giggled, "the dirt welcomes the humble branches of the oak and brings it in. The oak came from the dirt and it is now returning, to sleep forever. To finally be at peace and prepare itself for when it returns."

More wonder filled her red eyes, and her smile broke into a grin. She looked around and jumped from her father's knee, dancing around the tree as a pixie would. "But when, father?" she called, her laughter filling the forest. "When will it come back?"

Standing, the man brushed the bits of dirt from his leggings and came to her side. He chuckled as she hugged his leg, looking at his face with thoughtful and loving eyes. Reaching down he picked her up and she snuggled into his chest. "I don't know, sweet nose, it will be a long time until it does. But when it does, you be here to help it grow, ok?"

He hugged her to his chest and she giggled, "I'll never leave, papa! I'll be here, to care for it, I promise!"

A chuckle rose from deep in his chest and he lifted his chin to the setting sun, where they remained until little light remained between them and the branches of the trees around them.

"Papa," whispered the girl, as he carried her home.

His green eyes glanced down from under his brown bangs, his thick brows raised, "Yes my sweet nose?"

"I want to be just like you when I grow up."

The phrase warmed his heart and he smiled widely. With great strength, he resisted a joyous tear. "No," he began, serious at first, narrowing his eyes as his daughter looked to him in question. She seemed almost afraid.

"No, I want you to be _you_ , my sweet nose. Because no one can be you, and you, my love, are perfect."

The terrified expression had vanished and she pushed herself up to hug him, arms wrapped around his neck. He chuckled and hugged her back. After a few moments she pulled away and rubbed her nose on his, giggling, "I love you papa!"

He looked into his child's eyes and a tear rolled from his own, "I love you too, sweet nose."

They rubbed noses once more and proceeded back home.

The sweet memory was rudely interrupted by the slamming of iron hard fists on the marble table. Blood flinched and her eyes snapped open, the visions from her mind gone and forgotten within seconds. Her lip curled and her red eyes glared to the north end of the table, where a small hunched man was snarling at someone opposite from him. Blood sighed, rolling her eyes and looking around the room she was in.

The room itself was tall, a warlords table taking up a large portion of the room in the middle. Against the walls were numerous lanterns as well as flags and tapestries of different regions, kingdoms and cryptids. Cathedral like buttress's lined the walls in pairs, four pairs on either side, holding columns a few feet from either side of table to the walls. The columns were cylindrical and classic, while the table had become a new piece, considering the past incident of drunken fighting that had taken place and shattered the last one. But, the chairs remained mostly the same, black wood with gold linings and velvet cushions. The marble table was reinforced by black wood as well, dressed with a thin white cloth and topped with various, untouched dishes of food and barrels of mead. Servants of the current king waited patiently, filling the tankards of guests while they argued over politics and war tactics. But tonight was a different night, and hardly anyone touched their drinks.

The one that awoke Blood from her half slumber was Kardoff, the dwarven warlord from Faykrur Gura and proclaimed Hero of the Dreshtar Marshes. She glared at him from her seat, slumping back and grumbling. Kardoff was only four feet tall, but the height of his race mattered not in the war hall. Although, Blood found it ridiculously hilarious how he had to lean strategically on five thick pillows on his chair just to reach the table. Now, he was fully standing and pressed against the table on his chair, fists glued to the surface of the table, balled and ready to throw. His thick neck was strained and vein bulged from the skin, pulsing furiously. His long, red beard had been braided, which reduced its length, and hung stiffly from his jowls and brushed the table. He slammed his thick hands on the table, like a small child throwing a tantrum. "Listen here, ye old, soft bellied, hornless ram! You don't know what yer talkin about! You don't know war like we do, ye hear me?" he spat at a man across the table.

The man opposite of Kardoff was Sicita, a chieftain of one of the southern clans, namely known for their nomadic style to help the countries struggling in poverty. The man was tall, thin and sharp, his head bald yet covered with a thin, turquoise hood. His face was one that meditated on calmness, but the throwing of insults back and forth with Kardoff had weighed heavily on the man and his face was contorted in a vile frown. "How dare you talk to me in such a manner? Have you already forgotten the clan wars? The devastation nearly destroyed 16 factions!"

Kardoff bellowed his voice powerful and mocking. "Oh! You call that a war? It seems you have forgotten our war, the dwarven wars that nearly took down the entire continent!"

Sicita sat back and drummed his long nails on the table, grunting. "Spineless, thick headed, goblin bastard." He muttered.

Blood smirked as Kardoffs face went blank and he began cursing at Sicita in dwarvish, having heard him. Half of the table flinched and Blood glanced to a maid who was disgusted by the amount of spit hitting the table from Kardoffs mouth. The arguing went on for another few minutes, before the man on the end of the table at the north end finally cleared his throat. The man was Tiberiq, the current king of the largest kingdom in Neotellus. He had grown old, his face sagged, hair white against a velvet and gold tunic. Although he still appeared strong, his once square features had dulled and he remained seated most of his time. His laughter filled the room, and he clasped his shaking hands together. Kardoff and Sicita sat back, Kardoff snatching up his tankard and drinking furiously. The few that occupied the table remained silent as Tiberiq began to speak. "This meetings purpose was not to being about old feuds and childish arguments." He glanced to Kardoff and Sicita.

"One of my generals came to me previous to this day, in hopes to gain what little information we have on the future. Not all of us have arrived here, in fact, we still are awaiting some of the most powerful beings here in Neotellus." Tiberiq glanced over to a small, quiet man to his left. The man was average in size, middle-aged and seemingly bland. "Gustio, if you would please read off the attendance list of who all is here."

The man nodded, his eyes a blank green. He pulled a scroll from his robes and unraveled it, clearing his throat. He began with the names associated with thrones, which only included Helita, queen of the southern isles, tall, gracious and perfect, and Adrian, king of Azeron and Blood's friend, young, handsome and very nervous. Next were the ranks of clans and their leaders, followed by ranks down in royal armies, and so forth, following secondary parties, those who swore thin allegiances to some. The parties included mercenaries, vigilantes and the few nomadic loners, such as Tristan of Ritoyu, Jaquwer of Northen Yertui, and eventually Blood.

Once finished, Tiberiq asked the man to then begin to name those who had yet to arrive in the next few weeks. The order was the same, and consisted of many humanoid creatures rather than beasts. Certain names mentioned made those around the table flinch and shiver, and for good reason too, as some had been known to have gone mad.

Blood had since grown tired and ignored any contact from anyone in the room. However, it was Tiberiq that later on directed a question to her. She snapped back into reality and blushed, embarrassed. "My apologies, my liege, what is it you'd have me answer?"

Tiberiq smiled softly at her, "Where are Elise and her sister, Niassa? There were to be here tonight. As I understand it, you are close to them."

His eyes radiated a curious and humble light, and her blush deepened. "Ah, Elise has since fallen ill these last few days. Niassa is helping Sue tend to her. She sends her apologies."

Blood dipped her head and Tiberiq responded in kind. "I see, do tell them I wish Elise a speedy recovery."

She nodded again and listened as the meeting went on. After some time Blood turned her head to Adrian, who sat stiff and sweating in his seat. His combed, brown hair laid flat and wet against his scalp and he glanced at her with worried and muddied eyes. A grin formed on Blood's lips, only worsening his nervousness. Adrian was new to his throne, as his father had died in recent years, and he had taken his place as king. He felt as a whelp, cowering in the shadows of the great rulers around him. It also made him nervous to know even more powerful people were coming, people that could destroy him and his kingdom in a heartbeat. Blood knew he was afraid of failure, but she also knew if he couldn't get a grip on his nervousness, he would be an even easier target, even if everyone was supposed to be working together.

The night ended somewhat quickly after that, all bid one another a good night including Kardoff and Sicita with bitter resentment and the hall became hollow. Adrian and Blood walked with each other, groaning about the night's events and the days to come. Eventually they departed from one another company, Adrian sluggishly trailing off in a wet tunic, Blood giggling all the while. She walked around the western side of the castle until she found a very shaded hallway with a door propped open by a sickly glowing staff. A dim light protruded from the door, matching the orange glow of the staff. Inside one could tell there was arguing over whether or not the tapestries on the walls were pleasant for patients or morticians. Blood peered in and smirked at the sight. Elise was lying on a bed, half of her face swollen from fainting and crashing onto the ground earlier that day. He sharp lips were curled in a vicious frown, her eyes glaring at an older woman hovering over the bed. The old woman reached over and petted Elise's red hair, saying something softly that only seemed to anger Elise more. They began arguing again, soft giggling coming from a woman sitting in a chair at the other end of the Elise's bed. Blood sighed and stared lovingly at the woman sitting in the chair. The woman sat, relaxed, her long and thick coat having dipped down the chair to reveal slender, beautiful shoulders. He midnight black hair was bobbed up on both sides, long, parted bangs falling over the woman's face. Her laughter was music to Blood's ears. Blood couldn't help but stare, but the staff began to cast her shadow into the room and her presence would soon be known, had it not been for the crow sitting atop a shelf in the room, Blood would not have noticed and spared no expense with teasing. She stood up straight and weaved her way between the staff and the door. Once inside, she glanced around the darkly lit room and cleared her throat. The three women looked to her, Elise pouting and the older woman grunting and turning away to a table set up for alchemy purposes. The woman in the chair smiled, velvet eyes dancing. Blood grinned at her and was motioned forward. She stood behind the woman in the chair and softly touched the woman's shoulders, fingers tracing. The woman giggled.

"So I heard you two arguing. Sue, can't you try to make friends?"

The older woman at the table snorted, "Hush pup, or I'll give you a spoonful of mushroom broth just like I did to that one," she pointed a spoon at Elise, who in return blew a raspberry.

"How old are you?" the woman in the chair directed at Elise.

"Shut up Niassa, you do the same damn thing."

Niassa gapped, "I do not! Do I?"

Niassa looked back to Blood, who stared blankly and gave no response. Elise scoffed at her victory and laid her head back. "You're free to go now sis, I can handle myself."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Niassa chortled, Sue chuckling at her table.

Blood rolled her eyes and straightened out her tunic, letting Niassa get up and compose herself. She stretched, "I have been sitting down for hours!" Blood nodded and mouthed a 'me too'.

Niassa and Blood departed, bidding both Elise and Sue a good night, knowing the two would most likely assault one another than sleep. They leaned against one another as they made their way back to their room, hands clasped together. Niassa gave a short summary of her evening, the fights of the other two and how she attempted to knit and failed. Blood gave a quick overlook in return, but it ended on a more desperate note. As they finally came to their room a chill went up Bloods spine. She walked in, sitting on the end of the bed in front of her. Tired, she began to take off her boots and gauntlets, sighing. "We need more time, but we are limited. This two different parties plan also disturbs me. David doesn't understand the forest and he will most likely get himself killed. I don't know how well I'll handle the stress of escorting all these people."

Niassa had since disrobed through their conversation in their room, wrapping herself in her gown and a robe. She sat behind Blood and rubbed her shoulders. "You need to calm down; you are doing what you can. He is too blind to see it, and he will pay a price for it. I hope it isn't death, but it is what it is in the end. I know the things that trouble you, but it will be alright, love."

Blood smiled and turned her head, embracing in a passionate kiss with Niassa. As late as it was, the kiss began to pull them back and they rolled into the late night and its darkness. Their love was beyond passion, beyond words, and their bodies matched perfectly. Soon, fatigue grasped them both and they fell asleep in each other's arms. Their dreams were soft and sweet, as they always were when they were together. But as the night waned and the sun began to peer over the horizon, both were disturbed by a constant rapping on their bedroom door. Blood growled harshly, her sharp fangs animalistic as she barked at the door, "Go away!"

Niassa moaned, stirring, her body hot against Bloods. Both remained, tired and comfortable. Even as the rapping continued. "Should we get that?" Niassa mumbled, without opening her eyes. Blood snorted and buried her face under the pillows. "No, fuck them. I want to sleep with my girlfriend."

They both laughed softly and faded back into sleep as the person on the other side of the door finally gave up, slipping a note under their door.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own the world of Neotellus, this story only depicts the views of three main characters, Adrian, Bloodmoon and Shayha. Most characters are not my own, but some are of my own creation. Full credit is given to the original artists and creator of Neotellus and all of its original contents. All chapters are in 3rd person limited. There are mentions of homosexuality, sex, drugs, strong language, alcohol and gore. Read upon your own risk. Thank you.**

 **Chapter one is from the view of Adrian.  
Edit: Errors have been fixed, will continue to check over the chapter for more if any.**

Chapter 2

The morning quickly waned into afternoon and by the time Adrian had risen from his bed again the sun had pierced through his thick green curtains. He had already dressed for the day, dark brown trousers and a cotton grey shirt. Over his shirt he wore a thin leather coat braided with emblems of his kingdom and war bands. He sighed, shivering at the cool air that passed through the open doors from his balcony. The room was private, high up on the fourteenth floor of the castle. It was simple, but elegant enough, earthy browns and greens to match the banners and landscape of his kingdom. As a boy he would often visit the main kingdom, Neotiya, to be trained for his rightful seat on the throne of Azeron. He had since taken the room, which had been his fathers, and loathed it. Young as he was, he had substantial battle experience. His expertise was more of strategies for combat rather than full on battle, as his sword arm was weak. Instead he followed more of the route of spear and bow, wanting to keep a distant length between him and his enemies. In all of his battles his army never lost due to his precise strategies, but he knew the battles behind him were mere child's play. Now, he would have to sit forward, back straightened not lax, and think harder than ever. If he faltered during the next few months the blood of all innocents would be on him. He shivered again, his paranoia parading against his thoughts. He stumbled even in the well lit room to the bathroom. The bathroom matched in colors, the porcelain bath tub and toilet freshly cleaned, squeezing in a decorative sink lined with soaps, conditioners, and hand towels. His arm reached to a bar above the toilet, a towel for his bath falling to the ground. Sharp pains stabbed him in his abdomen and minutes passed before his throat began to tightened. Saliva filled his mouth and his head began to pound, red dots filling his eyesight. " _Come on. Come on dammit!"_

His thoughts spiraled and his stomach lurched, sending a wave of bile up his esophagus. Growling with annoyance he perched himself over the toilet, grabbing either sides of the seat and craned his neck. His body strained and a violent stream of hot vomit shot from his body and into the bowl. His knees buckled and after the first episode he fell and shook, the toilet his only support. Tears streamed down his face, a mix of snot and bile dripping from his nose. The spasms in his abdomen became increasingly worse and his body quivered from cold sweats. " _I can't do this…"_ he often repeated in his mind, his episodes of crying and vomiting conforming into one act as the hour passed by. When his stomach could no longer regurgitate any food or fluids the organ and all muscles around it pulsated in painful harmony. The world around him blurred into one and he began to pant, drool rolling off of his tongue and lips, throat dry and body suffering from severe tremors. " _You're so weak."_ He thought, his tears running dry, creating crusted rivers on his cheeks. _"You're so weak; you can't even be in the same room as these people. You'll never be like your father; he'd be so disappointed in you."_

At first, he didn't even realize he was sobbing, hiccupping in the process and causing his dry throat to crack. Time had since been lost and finally he fainted. He had no recollection of the moment, but his trance was interrupted by a harsh knocking on his bedroom door. His muddied eyes slowly looked past the half closed bathroom door. The shelves on the opposite side of the room, the bed and the desk all blended into one, he couldn't tell which direction the door was. "Help," his voice a whisper, "Please help," soft echoes of familiar voices stung at his ears. Before he could try to call for help again, his eyes rolled back behind his swollen eyelids and he fainted once more.

Water splashed across his face when he awoke again, eyelids fluttering and shutting fast at the bright light from the ceiling above his bed. A surprising but terrified scream came from inside of him and with little strength he had he covered his face with his arms, beginning to sob and spasm. "Turn off the light, quickly!" snapped a voice.

The voice was from a woman, and Adrian knew he was safe with someone he trusted as he would a sibling. The lights shut off but his arms remained without strength on his face. The woman that had come to his aid was not alone, and both people worked on calming him down. First, his arms were removed and he faintly recognized the faces of both Blood and her girlfriend, Niassa. They both glanced at one another, as though having a secret conversation that Adrian couldn't understand. His body ached, and after some time his spasms began to subside. He gapped like a fish, lips dry and a fowl stench rising from his vessel. They let him weakly sip warm water, his head propped up on a pillow. He looked down at his body and blushed as he realized he was almost completely naked. Neither of the two helping him noticed his embarrassment and continued to help him regain enough strength to see clearly and talk. Half an hour passed before he was able to speak again. Niassa had left the room, half garbed, his clothes and part of hers wrapped up in a very thick towel. As she left, Adrian glanced to Blood and raised a brow. "What happened to the clothes?"

Blood shook her head, rolling down the legs of her black denim trousers and pulled on her t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a surprising ponytail, and she struggled for a moment to catch her breath. He realized then the amount of effort the two had gone through to make sure he was alright and everything was clean. "When we found you on your bathroom floor you were fainted. You started to come back into reality but then you began to seize. During that we put you on your side but before we could, you kind of threw up on Niassa."

He could see her bite her tongue to not laugh and his face blossomed into a new shade of red. "Oh god!" Adrian exclaimed, attempting to look away.

Blood laughed, wiping off a bead of sweat on her forehead. "Don't worry, that's something to be expected," she placed a cool cloth on his head that had been sitting in a small bucket of water on this nightstand, "We take no offense. I'm just glad you're alright."

She sat down in the desk chair that had been moved to the side of his bed. She looked at him and sighed, "You scared the shit out of me Adrian."

He flinched and looked away, feeling his anxiety rise again. "I'm sorry."

Her snort was loud and clear and it made Adrian twitch in annoyance.

"You know as well as I do that you have to get in control of this. I know how much all of this stresses you out; you know I can be just as paranoid. But Adrian, you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up."

The room stayed quiet for some time before either of them could even look at one another. It was Adrian who began to speak again, his voice hoarse. "I am trying. But this weight on my chest, my shoulders," he paused.

"I only want to be as great as a ruler as my father. But I don't feel I can do it. I feel as though I'm not strong enough, that if I make the slightest mistake everything will fall to ruin. The last thing I want is everything my father built to be destroyed because of his idiot son."

He glanced at his friend, who sat quietly, absorbing his words. The wait for her response pulled on his patience and he could feel anger rising in his heart. Before he could voice his distress her mouth parted and calm words rolled from her tongue. "Adrian, I do not expect you to be like your father. Nobody should. What I expect from you is your strength and faith in your kingdom and yourself. You cannot be your father, because you are you. And I'd not have it any other way; nor should you."

The bed shifted as Adrian slowly used his fatigue worn arms to help lean himself against the cushions behind him. A sigh rose from him and he grunted as all of his abdominal muscles screamed and burned. He began panting but refused any help Blood had to offer him. Once he had situated himself he leaned back and moaned, his body throbbing from the small amount of work. His eyesight had since become clear and the light was less intense. But every time his eyes stared in the direction of a light his headache would worsen and he had to look away and shut his eyes. Leaning his head back, eyes closed he began to respond to her.

"I feel like I'm trapped. I am honored to lead my kingdom, but everything I deal with everyday piles higher and higher. It hurts so much to tell my people that I sometimes don't have time to listen to their requests. And I know their requests are justified and needed. What kind of king doesn't make time for his people? What kind of king struggles like this? What kind of king isn't strong in arms and humble? I don't know."

His eyes watered and he clamped his mouth shut as his throat began to close. The room was once more as Blood soaked in his words. As she thought, Adrian looked around the room and marveled at how well decorated it was. Carvings on his dressers, desk and even bedposts were marvelous. From his knowledge he could see multiple emblems of ancient kingdoms and their ancient cryptids. They were all well polished and sculpted to perfection. He gazed at them and fell into a trance as if to memorize every tiny detail on the black wood surfaces. But soon his trance was interrupted by the buzzing of the light over his bed. He glanced up and glared at the wire that extended from the light to the switch used to turn it on. _"Why can't we use lanterns? Electricity has to be more dangerous. With mages around, fire is easy to control if it should go outside its confinement. Electricity is so hard to control, even if it's contained. I'll have to ask the staff about replacing this; I only trust this technology to a point."_

He rummaged through his thoughts to find pristine points as to why the light in his room should be replaced with traditional lanterns. The thought of changing the oil and wick of the lanterns didn't bother him as he was used to doing small things as such on his own. " _I'd even settle for a mages lantern if that's the case; anything but electricity in these walls."_

Even as he ranted silently to himself he couldn't help but glance at his pondering friend. But his eyes met with hers. He gulped, realizing she had been studying him all the time he was distracted by carvings and lights. Neither could break the gaze, her crimson eyes unflinching. He became aware of how powerful her aura was in the room and it caused him to shiver and sweat. _"Stop that,"_ he directed at her, making the words sweep over her mind. It was then evident she had been in his thoughts the entire time, the presence of her mind connected to his unknown. A smile spread across her lips as she felt the words, " _About damn time,"_ she replied.

Adrian snorted and crossed his arms, looking forward at the door exiting his room. "Isn't that a bit rude; to intrude on ones thoughts without their permission?"

Her head tilted and she weaved the band in her hair out, her long black locks falling down her back and shoulders. "Yes and no. You were completely open and I am still one of the few who know you well enough to pass your defenses. You need to work on that by the way, your walls are practically gelatin."

The wood creaked beneath her as she leaned back and stretched her arms high over her head. "Well, anyways, get some clothes on and meet me in the hallway."

Her movement was lightning fast as she got up and walked to the door. Adrian gapped his mouth, "You aren't going to help me?" he exclaimed.

She shook her head, "Not at all, I doubt you want me seeing you naked either. Not that I haven't seen it all before."

Heat swarmed in his face again and he grunted, body aching as he attempted to get out of bed. A grin spread across Blood's face and she opened the door. Before completely slipping out she poked her head in once more, "By the way, nice package," and with that she winked and shut the door, dodging a weakly thrown pillow.

Both embarrassed and outraged, Adrian struggled getting out of bed. His legs shook while handling his weight and his arms refused to reach past his chest, making getting clothing from his closet difficult. Using his teeth to pull a shirt down he realized the amount of effort it would take to put the thick fabric on. He moaned; unaware of how his body would be able to handle the work of putting on clothing, _"Too bad being naked is considered illegal, in most places anyways," he chuckled._

Putting on his shirt and coat proved to be the most difficult, the green fibers loose and continuously getting caught on his fingers and nails. He left his coat for last, only happy that his boxers were a clean pair. But his suspicion of the two women escalated as they weren't the boxers he was wearing before his episode. Pushing the thought aside, he bent down to pull up his brown trousers. Pain surged up his spine and he almost doubled over a few times before he could finally gain enough balance. The next struggle was balancing on one leg long enough to pull up the pants leg. He took a few minutes to successfully gain his balance on either foot, and even longer to bring his arms up and back to pull on the fabric. After a grueling half an hour, he leaned up against his bed, panting and sweating. The cotton shirt he had chosen, like his previous one, made his body heat swell. " _Thank the gods it is autumn or I'd keel over from a heat stroke outside."_

As he sat, regaining his strength, he gritted his teeth in frustration as he remembered he needed socks and his boots. Even though it pained him he craned his neck down and held his face in his hands. He attempted to cry in frustration but was unable to muster any strength to do so. Instead he wallowed in anger, keeping the same position for another few more minutes before groaning. He looked around through the gaps of his fingers and spotted laces, tangled on the ground by the chair Blood had been sitting in. Lowering his hands, he saw a pair of brown boots, socks protruding from the tops, placed only a few feet from his spot. The polished surface on the boots gleamed and glared at him, mocking his vulnerability. Growling and ignoring his pain, Adrian lurched forward, dragging his boots close. Hugging them to his side he picked at the rubber bottoms and eventually began to put them on. The movement forward strained every muscle in his back and he released three tears before finally getting the first boot on and tied. It took him less time to put on the second, however, resulting in the same amount of pain.

Once he realized he was fully dressed, he took a deep breath and began to get up. The bed was his main support and he refrained from grabbing onto loose blankets. Using the bedposts, he heaved himself up, grunting and groaning as pain shot through his body. His stomach lurched when he was at full height and his body began to sweat. Another few minutes passed before he was able to unlatch his arms from the bedpost and move towards the door. As he shuffled to the door, he looked back to the bed, realizing he had forgotten his jacket. _"Whatever, probably smells like this morning's agony."_ He snorted, annoyed, and turned the knob to exit his room.

As he slipped through a small opening in the door Blood looked up from the device in her hands. Her eyes glanced up and then back down, the screen flashing in her hands. Adrian leaned against the door and panted, body swelled with heat. "About time you came out of there. I was going to go back in but you really are quite loud when stumbling around." Her finger curled over the back of the device and clicked a button, the bright lights shutting off.

Adrian sighed and tilted his head, "I could have used your help. What time is it?"

Blood raised a brow, "It's nearly two in the afternoon. We're late."

An unintentional groan rose from Adrian, _"God, I just can't get things together."_

"You better start perking up; we have to go down to the school in town, the junior high actually. I have a meeting with the kids to talk about;" she raised her hands and did the air quotes, "'What being a wielder' is all about." She scoffed and shook her head.

"Oh right, I forgot. The invitation I slipped into your room was made out to me. But-"

"You aren't a wielder."

Adrian nodded a bitter taste in his mouth. Lightning quick, Blood shoved a small pouch the size of a mason jar into his chest. The pouch was tanned leather, thick and bulky. A small latch and button was on one side for clipping onto a belt; on the other side was another small button pit, where the main lip to cover the insides on the pouch would come down and close firmly. The leather was hard in his hands and dusty. An emblem for Azeron was carved on its front and lip, the etched surface depicting the image of an armored griffon holding a branch of holly in one talon and a spear in the other. Branches of ivy curled around the creature to create a dangerous thorn frame. He gulped, unclipping the button on its front and peered inside. The pouch was black inside; however, as his eyes narrowed he could make out faint, distant images and gleams. _"You're all still here…"_ he thought, both happiness and dread falling over him.

He gazed into the pouch unknowingly, annoyance beaming from his friend. A loud tapping of steel on stone caught his attention and his head shot up. Blood had since crossed her arms, a brow raised. Pain crackled in the back of Adrian's head and he winced, watching as she began to walk away. Mustering enough strength, he staggered behind her, clipping the pouch onto his belt and outlining the emblem with his finger tips.

It was some time before they arrived at the school, taking short cuts behind buildings and alley ways. Adrian felt as though he were a thief, covering behind trash cans and laying low in the shadows as to avoid unwanted attention. He was, after all, a known monarch. They passed through the wealthy district with ease, proceeding to pass the merchant district with more difficulty. Blood weaved through areas with ease while Adrian struggled from behind. At times, she would force some of her strength upon him, her mind a boulder against his nimble frame. He trusted her to protect his mind when he could not and he could not refuse her help even when it came to lending him her own energy. _"But then again,"_ he thought to himself, privately, _"she isn't exactly human anymore."_

Once they had passed through the merchant district they slowed down and walked the streets of the eastern district. Like Azeron, the eastern district was home to some of the older residents and older families of the kingdom. The buildings were older, yet most refurbished, and its appearance was medieval yet bright. It took them no time at all to reach the school. An hour had passed since the children had been released, but to their luck the meeting was scheduled to be held after school. Relieved, they both entered through the main doors, the building itself rectangular and brick. Its attitude was basic, hallways with bulletin boards and lockers, rooms decorated to the teachers liking. Maroon and white tiles lined each floor and all of the bricks were painted in a creamy white hue. The entirety of the school was lonesome. After school activities took place outside, save for the meeting. The principal, a short woman in, what seemed to be, her early sixties guided them through the halls. She rambled about the school's history, its founding members and core classes. Their walk remained short and, luckily for Adrian, continued on slowly with no stairs or steep slopes. They arrived at a room guarded by a maroon door, decorated with papers for late homework reminders, event posters and one sheet that read "Welcome to Neotiya Junior High, Visitors!"

The principal bowed respectively to them both, bidding them a farewell, her white curled hair bouncing as she waddled away in the direction they came. A small rectangular window allowed them to peer in, Blood knocking softly on the glass. A teacher sat at her desk, her hair braided and blonde and glasses low on her nose. Her sharp but beautiful features quickly went from startled to overjoyed. She hopped up from her desk, the long flow skirt of her blue dress dancing as she clapped to get her students attention. She uttered inaudible words before prancing to the door. Both Adrian and Blood took a step back as the door swung inward and the teacher squealed in joy. "Welcome, welcome!" she cried, a grin stretching across her thin face. She usher them in, both visitors slowly making their way into the classroom. The teacher introduced them, Adrian admiring the old school feel in the room. There were green chalkboards, colored chalk, wooden yet comfortable desks and, to his surprise, many in the audience. He gulped, feeling his anxiety returning. Blood smiled to the young teens in the room, glancing to him. _"You don't have to say much, just be prepared. These aren't warlords and other monarchs. I know what to say, you just follow along."_

He scoffed but smiled to them, _"Right,"_ he returned, _"Warlords or not, these little bastards can be just as cruel if not more so."_

Blood chuckled quietly and waited for her queue to speak. The teacher announced to the audience in the room, which was almost packed with no seats available and many standing in crowded corners, why they had come. "The school was informed that a few guest speakers were coming today to talk about a profession that is available in high school. The profession requires years of training, which you can go through in the next four years should you all wish to go to the next level in education. Today, we have Sir Adrian Azrityu, king of the sister kingdom Azeron," most of the class perked up and began mumbling, especially the girls, "and with him today is his companion, Miss Alexandra Bloodmoon, who has come here to explain to you all what it means to be a Wielder."

The room was shushed as the murmurs grew louder, everyone excited and awe-inspired. Blood took a step forward, Adrian attempting to keep his tall but pain stature. "Hello everyone, I am so happy to see you all here today!" Blood grinned and the class responded in kind.

"Now, before I can begin, can anyone tell me what a wielder does?"

Adrian was taken aback by the sheer amount of hands that flew into the air. His friends grin widened and she pointed to a boy sitting in the middle left part of the room. The boy brushed his blonde bangs to the side, clearing his throat. "Well Miss, a wielder is someone who can control those card creatures called cryptids."  
Blood nodded slightly, "Yes, in a sense. But wielders do not completely control cryptids. Rather, they venture forth with cryptids by their side. Like loyal allies. Now, who can tell me what a cryptid is?"

Some hands stayed up but the number halved. Blood nodded to a girl in the front row, whose eyes were gleaming. "A cryptid is a being that is connected to a single soul and draws their life energy from it. It doesn't live in this world; it can only be summoned into it."

Adrian's ears burned and his own smile stretched, _"I may not be a wielder, but it is a good feeling to know people are still interested in what they do. Maybe the wielder profession isn't as frowned upon as we think."_

He glanced to Blood, who beamed with pride. "You are on the right track, lovely." The girl beamed behind her desk, twisting her hair with her fingers.

Blood stood up straighter, the aura around her wavering as she took in a deep breath. _"Here we go."_ Adrian thought, and he prepared himself for a speech not often heard.

"Wielders are people, or creatures, that have a special bond with what we call cryptids. For the last few generations wielders have returned as a whole, and we have reshaped our bond with cryptids."

She continued on with the history of wielders, how a guild of mages had first discovered a dimension that consisted of only pure energy. The energy was so powerful within the dimension that any who dared to pass through into would die immediately. Instead, the mages investigated the dimension from afar, using their magic abilities to feel the energy and its reactions to new magic. Soon, they found a way to transfer energy to and from the dimension without harming either space. A mage known as Thaldor began an experiment, taking a part of his soul energy and transferring it into the realm. Once done, he felt a connection that was both terrifying and unbelievable. Once Thaldor had complete connection with the energy he had stored in the dimension he directed the energy flow to an object. The first objected he directed the energy at was an empty urn that he had kept for his demise. But the energy refused to pair with the urn and returned to its dimension. For years he experimented with different objects to the point he was left with chairs and tables. What seemed like pure luck and accident, he one day directed it to a portrait that his late wife had painted of him. The energy flowed into the painted and an aura exploded from the impact. With half of his house destroyed from the sheer amount of magical energy, his body in the rubble, he was picked up by a large creature. As his old eyes opened, Thaldor looked upon a familiar face. He realized after some time that the being he was looking at, that was holding him in giant hands, was him from years past. The giant being cradled him, and Thaldor marveled at what he held before him. The being was the spitting image of him when he was younger. He had grown old, a long beard dropping past his stomach, yet the being held a strong face, clean shaven and young. The being began to explain to him, how the energy he had placed from himself into that dimension has festered and became a being of its own, a copy of the person the energy had come from. The being had no knowledge past the day the energy was set into the world, but all past knowledge remained.

Thaldors findings were revolutionary and soon many began to experiment themselves. The guild that Thaldor belonged to began to create more and more of these beings, naming them cryptids and making them officially their own. However, as time waned by and Thaldor fell into a peaceful death, chaos began to rise. Those within the mages guild began to spill their energy into the dimension in hopes to immortalize themselves. Eventually, people became power hungry and began to fight one another in an inexplicable battle. Soon, the guild fell, their members and their cryptids having destroyed one another. The gods of Neotellus watched in horror as the battle ensued, and as it passed, they sealed away the dimension, cutting humanity from its access.

As time passed, the seals upon the dimension faded and a new era became aware of its existence. The gods became aware of the curiosity of the creatures that roamed Neotellus and watched as they began to do as they had before, creating cryptids. However, the gods reminded the mortals of the earth of the greed and battles that ensued many centuries before them. Agreeing with the gods, scholars were chosen by the gods to be envoys, carrying out word to those around the world of the cryptids return. As the dimension was inspected again, all energies of the old mages were lost, and no cryptid was recovered. The scholars that roamed the land began to offer a high honor to monarchs, heroes, fiends and even the gods. The scholars were artisans and painted portraits of beings worthy of having a cryptid to their name. Portraits were painted of the creatures, and eventually the gods presented to the scholars stones in the shapes of cards. Each stone was etched with a symbol, a dragon bust, and ancient writing. The gods then said to them to connect the energies to the portraits, and from the portraits to the stone cards. The scholars did exactly as told, the stone slabs bursting with color and life. As the energy passed through dimension, painting and finally stone, the card thrummed with energy. It was malleable like paper but indestructible. Successful, the scholars faced the gods and praised them, asking what their next step was. The gods then turned to heavenly chapel the scholars lived within, and with giant hands, they reached down and prodded the earth, creating small but seemingly endless pools of glittering water. The gods then said to them that each pool was a connection point to the dimension and their world, that these cryptids could be summoned only by those with confident enough will. The pools would then allow cryptid cards to be summoned forth from their depths. From the waters would arise cards, a cryptid that has felt and chosen a wielder, a person worthy of being accompanied by a cryptid.

The scholars then asked if it were possible to have more than one of a single cryptid, as anyone could wield a great hero. The gods responded humbly and told the scholars that there can be many of the same cryptid roaming the earth with one or many wielders. The scholars rejoiced, yet, one stood up and asked one last question, one that made the gods shake. They responded, however, with sadness on their tongues. The scholar had asked what would happen to cryptids whose companion died. With the last question asked, the gods began to fade away, however, they left answering the young scholar. Their response echoed in their ears that should a wielder of cryptids die, the cryptids could either return to their realm and await another worthy wielder, or wither away with them, leaving less energy in their realm.

Soon, the scholars created the basic rules and responsibilities of any creature that should become a wielder. Although not all rules are followed, many stay true to the commandments that were set. History was dotted with occasions of those who broke the commandments, yet could not be pursued as cryptids became too universal and accessible, even to those unconnected to the rest of Neotellus. Eventually, the dimension the cryptids originated from was named the Elemental Realm, as it was soon found that cryptids were exceptionally strong with three main elements that helped create the earth, forest, water and fire. As the years passed by, cryptids began to develop into their own beings, however, greatly influenced by their wielders. Wielders found they were able to transfer the energy from weaker cryptids to their stronger cryptids, ultimately being able to max a cryptids full potential. Cryptids were also found to be only a small fraction of the true power of most soul holders; those were chosen to have a cryptid to their name. Their sizes also differentiated, most colossal beings were small as cryptids, while others had giant versions of themselves that towered over most races. Eventually, science began to indicate what power levels and rank certain cryptids had, such as rare or common or even ultra rare. Most cryptids relied heavily on one of two attributes, whether they were offensive or defensive. However, a rare few were perfectly balanced in combat. Science also was able to determine whether a cryptid was a base or an ex, the cards being able to change when the energies of the same card or specialized card were fed to the cryptid. Once done, the cryptid that was fed either the same cryptid or specialized card, the card itself would change into a new portrait and border. The possibilities of cryptids throughout the years began almost endless, from almost animated cards to multiple selections, the cryptid world began to expand, and creating a community that was both admired and feared.

Adrian was blown away by the sheer amount of knowledge Blood had of the wielders, yet, not surprised. His fingers rubbed over his pouch and he looked at her as she continued to speak, both inspired and jealous. _"She is one of the few who truly put their all into what they do as wielders. Not many nowadays have those same feelings and confidence."_

A few moments passed as Blood was offered a cup of water, the entire class just as blown away. Many voiced their opinions on the matter as well as asked many questions, all of which she attempted to answer flawlessly. Adrian's own mind swirled with questions but he bit his tongue and kept quiet. All eyes had shifted to his friend and no one seemed to pay attention to him. It was both a relief and an annoyance to Adrian, but he bore through it and shifted so he could be as comfortable as he could be. His stomach growled and he rolled his eyes, catching the attention of a girl in the second row. She shied away from his eyes as he returned a surprised look and she bit her lip, quietly giggling. Blushing, Adrian faced forward again and listened to what his friend was saying once more.

Blood had since stopped talking and Adrian watched her down the rest of her water. Throwing the cup into a nearby trash can by the teachers desk, a few spectators whooping at her success, she began to rummage through her own pouch made of blackened leather. "Now," she began, "a wielders pouch is specially made for wielders. You can try your luck on making your own but unless you're a natural with magic, don't do it. You can get a beginners pouch pretty dare cheap, if not free."

The students watched in awe as she turned her hip to them. She opened the lip of the pouch and held her hand above it. Without any words a small card floated from the pouch and hover under her hand. Turning back to them, Blood turned her hand and the card hovered over her hand. "You guys and gals ready?"

The class stayed silent, all eyes on the floating card. It spun slightly in her hand, mesmerizing even Adrian. The anticipation in the room was too much, and when Adrian felt he and all the others in the room were about to burst, Blood grinned and the card fell to the floor. A rune sparked on the floor and seemed to bleach the tiles, a shadow rising in a mass of fog and dust. The light of the rune burned with fire and a large werewolf formed in front of the audience. The creature became fully solid and stood at a staggering eight feet. The werewolf was adorned in silver armor, red cloth and foreign emblems. Its body was covered in grey fur, long, braided hair fell behind his back and forward on his shoulders, red eyes piercing and tail long and slumped on the ground. The wolf was terrifying yet proud and majestic. He crossed his arms over his armored chest and growled, a wolfish grin twisted from its maw. "This," Blood began, "is a cryptid."

The class erupted in cheers, the sheer sound of everyone, even Adrian, shaking the building. Adrian laughed and glanced to the door where more people had gathered and watched. He felt excited and happy, looking to the cryptid Blood had summoned. The aura around him was positively horrifying and grand; it sent shivers up his spine.

Once the room had finally calmed down, Blood introduced her companion. "This here is Ulfhedinn, Guardian of the Queen of Light. His soul holder is one of the finest generals and loyalist members to the queen. She is his everything. As you saw, the rune on the ground burst into flames. That means, he is more focused with the fire element."

She glanced up to Ulfhedinn and he returned a lovingly glanced. "He was one of my first cryptids, and one of my most trusted."

Ulfhedinn chuckled, his voice low and booming. The class then began to direct their questions to Ulfhedinn, most of which he answered happily. Eventually, the time came where the meeting had to end, the students and even staff unhappy to depart from their guests. Adrian was relieved that he hardly had to speak, only answering a few questions to those leaving. The principal waited for them outside the room, escorting them with the teacher back out the front doors. Both women bid them farewell, the teacher especially to Adrian, and left them to themselves. Ulfhedinn had remained summoned, following them gladly. Outside, they began their trek back to the castle. It took them less time as Adrian was able to regain his strength without any help from his friend. The route they took was more public, as the late afternoon gave them a short window to slip through the streets before they became overly busy. Adrian talked the most on the way back, Blood having been depleted from her long speech. As they reached the high steps to the main entrance of the castle, the white cathedral like mansion looming overhead, they sat down on the marble slabs for stairs. Blood leaned back on her elbows and sighed, head back and eyes closed. "That was exhausting," she muttered.

"But you did amazing!" Adrian exclaimed, his energy now positive.

Blood opened one eye and peered at him. "Eh, I said everything I knew. At least, everything I've read and heard about from scholars."

A breeze swept over them, chilling the air. Ulfhedinn grunted and shook his mane, standing on the steps, intimidating people passing by. "What have you planned for the rest of the day?" Adrian asked.

She took a moment to respond, "Getting ready," she sighed, "Spending my evening with Niassa mostly."

Adrian nodded, wrapping his thoughts over a particular question.

"No."

"What?" Adrian raised his brows.

"I know what you want to ask and you can forget it."

There was a touch of venom in her words and it stung in Adrian's ears. "Well, then why not? It's nearly been a year since you ph-"

Her head snapped in his direction and she glared at him. "Because it isn't any of your business. You may be like a brother to me, but this is not something I want to discuss right now."

Adrian gapped at her as she flung herself from her position and towered over him. He looked at her as she cast her eyes on the main doors of the castle, "Well then, ok, don't answer then."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's something sensitive I shouldn't have even thought of. I just want to make sure you're alright too."

Blood nodded and sighed again, "Can you make your way around just fine?"

He shrugged, "I'll manage, go, and all is well. Thank you for today."

Ulfhedinn began to ascend the steps, Blood beginning to follow, "No problem, behave yourself."

Adrian laughed, facing forward. He felt her conscience detach from his and he was once again alone in his thoughts. Before he could begin to think about the rest of the day, he heard Blood call his name. He twisted his torso and neck to see her. She had already gone up half way. Hands over her mouth she called down to him, "Hey! Summon them! They miss you!"

With that, she turned and jumped up the steps, bounding over almost five or more at a time, Ulfhedinn a short distance behind her. Adrian turned back the other way, a frown creased on his face. _"They miss you…"_ he repeated the words over and over in his head, his fingertips tracing over the small pouch on his belt.

" _They miss you…"_


End file.
